The Crumbling Castle
by Leigh A. Sumpter
Summary: In which the Baudelaires encounter an evil pair of guardians, a set of glass slippers, a deadly fire, a pinstripe wardrobe, and a masquerade ball. ASOUE takes on a Cinderella twist!
1. The Injurious Introduction

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing – not even the writing style! This is my first ASOUE story… let me know if it's worth continuing!

* * *

**The Injurious Introduction**

Dear Readers,

If you have stumbled upon this fan fiction on your own accord, then I solemnly suggest that you turn your browser back and read a story from _The Littlest Elf_ fandom instead. You may have accidentally clicked on this fan fiction in the online profile of one of my many representatives, in which case you should immediately close this page and restart your computer.

However, if you possess a mind deranged enough to enjoy such content as this story contains, then by all means, read on to learn about the troubled characters that it is my duty to write about. If the true tale of a crumbling castle, terrifying disguises, cake-sniffing orphans, a glass slipper, a fancy ball, and a greedy count are enough to intrigue you, then I welcome you to continue reading. Don't say you haven't been warned.

I have hired one of my newest representatives to record these terrifying events, as it is our obligation to reveal the truth to the public, but feel free to throw your computer out the window at any time, and go outside to pick daisies or partake in something more joyful.

With all due respect,

_Lemony Snicket_


	2. For Beatrice

_For Beatrice –  
__Our fairy tale never started;  
__Thus I am miserable ever after._


	3. The Formidable Flames

**Author Note:** I would like to thank everyone who reviewed the first chapter for your positive feedback. Acknowledgements are at the bottom of the page! Let me know what you think of this chapter.

* * *

**The Formidable Flames**

In many fairy tales, it is customary to begin with the cliché phrase, "once upon a time." Throughout your life, you will most likely hear a tale that starts with these four words, no matter who is telling it – whether that person is a loving parent, a friendly neighbor, or an escaped convict who happens to live in your basement.

Fairy tales also share another trait – their endings. At the conclusion of every fairy tale, all of the characters live happily ever after… sometimes even the villains, who have been taught by the forces of good that life is far more enjoyable when one is not trying to inflict physical and emotional pain upon others. When the story has reached its finale, the teller will often recite, "And they all lived happily ever after," to signify that all of the conflicts in the account were resolved, and that each character reached his or her proper fate.

You may have noticed that this story in particular does not begin with "once upon a time." I will warn you now – this is not a fairy tale, and it will not end happily ever after for everybody. I regret to inform you that often in reality, good does not overcome evil, and the villains often achieve their twisted goals.

This tale is a dreadful one, so I suggest you close your eyes immediately to block your vision from the words that follow. Continue to read only if you wish, but be prepared to abandon this story at any time that you feel it has become too distasteful.

We shall start with a few introductions, beginning with the teenage inventor. Her name was Violet Baudelaire, and at fifteen years old, she was talented in building new contraptions and using science to the advantage of humankind. Whenever her mind was focused most on inventing, she could be seen tying her dark brown hair into a ribbon on top of her head. Though a very pretty girl, Violet did not let the benefit of her looks become her only strength.

Next in the family was a thirteen-year-old brother named Klaus. Quite interested in reading, he could often be found his nose in a book, and he retained information very well. Klaus remembered nearly everything he read, and the topics were various ones at that.

They lived in an elegant mansion with their father, a highly esteemed man, and their mother, who was pregnant to soon give birth to a baby girl. The Baudelaire family was one of the wealthiest in the kingdom, second only to the royal family. Their lives had always been rather fortunate; though this happiness would all eventually come crashing down… as this is, by no means, a fairy tale.

We will start the story from the beginning, when the unsuspecting siblings stood at the shore of Briny Beach, as was customary on a day like today. While the right-handed Violet skipped rocks across the water, Klaus examined the fish and plant life in the shallow areas.

"What a day," Klaus noted, looking up as the sun began to set. "It feels like nothing could ever go wrong."

Violet nodded. "I know what you mean," she agreed, "but we should probably start heading home soon. It's almost time for dinner."

The two siblings gathered their things and began to walk home. Approaching them, however, was a man they knew well. They exchanged glances. "Poe," Klaus whispered in warning to Violet as they continued toward him. "Get ready."

Sir Arthur Poe was not only the royal bank adviser, but a casual friend of the Baudelaires as well. He came over for enough of their dinner parties for Violet and Klaus to know that he had a rather exasperating – a word which here means "so frustrating that it causes people to want to rip their hair out" – habit of coughing. It is, however, impolite to dislike a person for his or her habits, so Violet and Klaus often tried to ignore the cough as best as they could.

"Hello, young Baudelaires," Poe greeted them with a cough.

Violet extracted a fan from her belongings, and covered her face, pretending to do it out of modesty, when really she was just trying to avoid his cough. "Good day, Sir Poe," she greeted him in the most well-mannered tone she could muster.

"Yes, good day," Klaus repeated in the same tone. "How do you do?"

"Not so well, I'm afraid," Poe replied, pulling out a handkerchief as he coughed once more. "You'll have to come with me so I can explain everything to you."

"Explain?" Violet looked at Klaus, but he did not know what Poe was talking about, either. "Explain what?"

"There has been a fire." Poe heaved a sigh. "Violet, Klaus…"

Violet and Klaus braced themselves.

"… It grieves me to inform you this, but …"

The Baudelaire siblings gulped in anticipation, not prepared for the news that was about to come their way.

"Your parents are dead."

* * *

**Acknowledgements:** I would like to thank _Curry Curran_, _Rock Not War_, _BlackCat69_, _Em Quagmire_, _LoStNoBoDy_?, _Soycaliente_,_ Swanwhite2_, and _Phish Tacko_ for your kind reviews on The Injurious Introduction. I hope you enjoy the chapters that follow!


	4. The Ghastly Guardians

**Author Note: **Many thanks to everyone who reviewed so far! I'm sorry it's taken me an entire YEAR to update, but I hope you continue to read anyway. A lot of you asked me about Sunny and wanted to know where she is. I can't tell you exactly, but she _will_ be a part of the story (just not yet). Anyway, I hope you enjoy… at least as much as you _can_ enjoy a story this terrible!

* * *

**The Ghastly Guardians**

Throughout your life, you will find that four words can be combined in any which way to achieve the most painful of meanings. For example, a friend could tell you, "We need to talk," which could imply that you have somehow wronged them. Your dentist might tell you, "You have a cavity," which is actually _not_ painful for him, since he will be paid regardless, but it is quite literally painful for you. A waitress at the Anxious Clown might say, "We don't serve puttanesca," a villain could tell you that "Your end is near," or a beautiful woman could hand you a nine-hundred page letter that can be summed up as "I cannot marry you," after you have asked the four words, "Will you marry me?"

It is guaranteed that you will hear many disappointing four-word sentences in your life, but I sincerely hope that, while you are still young and impressionable, you never hear the four words that Sir Poe uttered to the Baudelaires that day. In fact, the words were so dreadful that I do not plan to rewrite them.

That day at the beach seemed a blur for both Violet and Klaus, who had obviously never expected their shocking encounter with Poe. They had very little time to mourn the death of their parents and unborn sister; a horse and carriage had been waiting for them.

"Your parents' will requested that you be taken care of in the most convenient way possible," Poe told them on their way. "So therefore, I am bringing you now to your new guardians."

"Guardians?" Violet repeated, trying not to think of her parents. "But Sir, we_ have_ no close remaining relatives."

"I know that," said Poe. "But you do have a distant cousin who lives within the kingdom. His name is Count Olaf."

Klaus furrowed his brow. "Wouldn't it be more convenient if we stayed with close friends of our parents?" he suggested. "We've never met this cousin. I didn't even know we were related to a count."

"Well, apparently you are." Poe coughed. "I contacted your cousin before I came to retrieve you. I believe it would be best to bring you there to live. He seemed rather affable when I spoke to him."

Violet and Klaus sat in silence. For two people who had just been told they were orphans, they hadn't had the chance to properly mourn. Thinking about their new guardian only made things worse.

"Affable," Poe continued, "is a word which here means friendly and likable."

"We know what _affable_ means," Klaus told the royal bank adviser.

"Very well." Poe coughed again. "I believe your new guardian has a wife and child, in case you were wondering. The daughter should be your age."

Violet and Klaus feigned interest – a phrase which here means "pretended to be interested in what Poe was saying, even though they were too busy thinking about the very recent death of their parents" – by nodding politely.

The carriage came to a halt as they reached a dark mansion at the end of the road. Inwardly, the Baudelaires cringed at this. If they had to imagine the gloomiest place they could possibly live, they knew their ideas wouldn't come close to the mansion they'd just arrived at.

"We're here!" Poe announced, stepping out at once. He motioned for Violet and Klaus to follow him to the door, which was marked with the picture of an eye, where he knocked hard.

The door was answered by an extremely large person who looked neither male nor female. "You must be the orphans!" the person greeted them. "Come in, come in."

Violet and Klaus exchanged looks. Was this their new guardian?

As the person led them inside the mansion, they looked around. The place was dark, almost damp, and not entirely clean. Two women with powdered faces could be seen in maid dresses, dusting off a nearby table.

"Olaf! Esmé! Carmelita!" the person called out suddenly. "The orphans are here!"

At the top of the stairs appeared three people – a tall, thin man with shiny eyes and only one eyebrow, along with a trendy blonde woman in a pale pink dress and a girl about Klaus's age dressed similarly to the woman.

"Hello, hello," the man greeted the Baudelaires and Poe as he descended the stairs. "I am your Count Olaf. Welcome."

There was something about Count Olaf that the Baudelaires didn't like, but they kept their thoughts to themselves, as is best to do in a situation like that.

The woman and child followed Olaf down the stairs, and all three stood by the Baudelaires.

"I am Esmé Gigi Geniveve, your new step-mother, as you may wish to call me," the lady told them importantly, "and I am the kingdom's sixth most fashionable woman. Adoption is _in_ right now, so today is your lucky day."

Violet and Klaus felt far from lucky, but they listened to the woman speak anyway.

"Pardon me, madam," interrupted Poe, "but adoption is in _what_?"

Esmé sighed. it seemed as though she was already bored with the situation. "Adoption is _in_. That's all. That just means that it's the trendy thing to do. It's what everybody who's _anybody_ is doing." She placed a hand on her hip. "And _I_ would know."

Count Olaf chuckled softly. "That's my Esmé," he told them, though this had been clear after her first introduction. "Now Carmelita, aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

Carmelita rolled her eyes as she curtseyed for the Baudelaires. "Hello, orphans. I'm Carmelita. And usually I'd think you were all just a bunch of cakesniffers, but since orphans are in right now, I'll let it slide."

Esmé smiled proudly at her daughter. "She's lovely, is she not?"

Violet tried to smile politely. "Charmed to meet you all," she said. "My name is Violet."

"My name is Klaus," Klaus introduced himself.

"Wonderful," Count Olaf replied, though the expression on his face looked as though he wasn't really interested. "Now, I'm afraid our home isn't quite as extravagant as you're accustomed to, so I apologize. If, however, it bothers you too much, we could always spruce it up with some of your inheritance…" His eyes were shining even more than before.

Poe shook his head. He coughed into his handkerchief before speaking. "I'm afraid that won't be possible," he said. "Violet and Klaus do not receive a cent of their inheritance until Violet comes of age. "

"Of course, of course," Olaf assured, though it was clear that he was hearing this for the first time. "

"I'd better leave now," Poe announced, "but I thank you again for taking the Baudelaires on such short notice. Baudelaires, I hope this isn't the last we see of each other. _Au revoir_ – that's French for 'farewell.'" And with that, he left.

"Speaking French… that's _in_ right now!" Esmé informed everyone, straightening out her skirts. "_Oui oui_ – that means 'yes.'"

Violet and Klaus exchanged glances and sighed. In a very short time they had managed to lose their parents _and_ gain the most eccentric of guardians. They could only wonder what would happen when orphans were no longer _in_.

* * *

**Acknowledgments: **I'd like to thank _Myrtle the Tyrtle, kuyaga, Swanwhite2, Em Quagmire, Phish Tacko, Silver Moon Droplet, Soycaliente, CurryCurran, Blackcat69, Rock Not War, laura truewood, stef, Second daughter of Eve, _and_ PrincessOfNargles_ for the reviews. Sorry to have kept everyone waiting for so long… hope you're still interested! I promise the next time I update will be this year!


	5. The Treacherous Trends

**Author Note:** Wow, so it's been only a month since my last update! Be very proud of me. XD Thanks to all of you who reviewed – it was great to hear what you think! I'm glad people are still interested in this story, after all the time it took me to actually update. I'm afraid this chapter isn't very good, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

* * *

**The Treacherous Trends**

Coping with the death of a loved one is never easy, no matter how old you are and how much of the world you have seen. Often after losing someone you care about – whether a friend, a parent, or a beloved pet rabbit – you will want to wallow in your misery in whatever way you choose. Having a peaceful environment and someone to comfort you is often helpful when you are trying to mourn.

Unfortunately for the Baudelaires, their new guardians provided neither peace _nor_ comfort.

"Orphans!" Carmelita would scream every morning, tapping on each of their doors. "Get up, orphans!"

Violet and Klaus would come downstairs to breakfast, where a frigid – a word which here means "colder than the highest point of Mount Fraught" – bowl of porridge waited for each of them.

"You know, I've read that warmer foods at breakfast make for a more productive day," Klaus suggested one morning, trying not to grimace at the thought of another cold meal.

Esmé rolled her eyes at this suggestion. "No can do!" she exclaimed. "Cold breakfasts are _in_ right now. Suggestions from orphans are _out_."

Carmelita giggled happily at this. She stuck her tongue out at Violet and Klaus.

"That's right," Olaf agreed with his wife, though he too wouldn't have minded a warm breakfast once in a while. "Listen to your new step-mother."

Another morning, Violet noticed that the kitchen table was becoming rather wobbly.

"If you'd like, I would be happy to fix this table for you," Violet offered. She began to tie her hair up in a ribbon, already looking forward to fixing something again. "I happen to be quite handy with tools."

Esmé had laughed at this. "How… _unbecoming_ of you. A lady never fixes things! If we wanted this table fixed, we could ask Clark over here."

Klaus shook his head. "My name is Klaus, ma'am," he corrected her politely. "And I'm really not so good at fixing things. That's where my sister excels."

But the table was left unfixed, and the porridge left unheated. As the days wore on, the Baudelaires found their experiences far from enjoyable.

"I'm finding these experiences far from enjoyable," said Klaus one afternoon.

He sat on a small wooden chair in Violet's room, while his sister continued to search for tools. She was hoping to find _something_ she could use for a new invention, since inventing things always took her mind off of whatever was bothering her.

"I agree," Violet said quietly, finally stopping to take a seat beside him. "But I suppose we should be thankful – at least we have a home."

Klaus nodded. "I know you're right. I just wish I could find a single book in this house… _something_ to keep my mind off, well, you know…"

"I_ do_ know." Violet sighed, wishing her parents were merely on vacation. Their deaths still seemed unreal to her; a part of her kept hoping that they would be returning soon. "I can't believe it's already been a week."

The room was silent for a few moments. Then…

"Do you realize how ridiculous we look?" Violet said suddenly, laughing in spite of herself.

Klaus looked down to see the pinstripe suit he was wearing, then at the matching pinstripe dress that his sister wore. Esmé had picked these outfits for them because apparently, pinstripes were _in_.

"At least we're keeping up with the trends," he replied, laughing as well. "Although I can't say I've ever seen people dressed like this before…"

There is an old saying, which you may have heard before, that laughter is the best medicine. Let me clear that up for you. If you are very sick, chances are that laughter won't cure you – unfortunately, some things require doctors who in turn require money and incredibly complicated forms. If you are surrounded by people who think you are crazy, then throwing your head back and bursting into laughter probably won't do you much good.

However, if you are stuck in a less-than-perfect situation, sometimes a little laughter will help you as it did Violet and Klaus that afternoon. They knew their parents weren't coming back, and that their new parents weren't the most… well… normal guardians they could have ended up with. But through their laughter, the Baudelaires took control of the one thing they _could_ control – their attitudes.

Little did they know, this wouldn't help them much longer.

* * *

"Orphans!" someone shrieked loudly later that day. 

Violet and Klaus looked at each other and shrugged. Was it dinnertime already? They left the room and hurried downstairs, pinstripes and all.

They entered the parlor, where Olaf, Esmé, and Carmelita stood waiting for them.

"Sit!" Esmé barked, pointing to a pair of musty cushioned chairs.

"Yes?" Violet asked, wondering why she and Klaus had been called downstairs when it wasn't even a mealtime. Usually their guardians ignored them, except on the occasion where Carmelita skipped by their rooms, trying to make as much noise as possible.

"Your step-mother and I are going through a dilemma right now," Count Olaf told them, his eyes shining greedily. "As you know, a dilemma is…"

"A sticky situation in which those involved aren't really sure what to do about it," Klaus finished for him. "Yes, we know."

"Well, well, well." Olaf smirked at the Baudelaires. "Aren't you clever? Anyway, yes… we're going through a _sticky__ situation_."

"We're broke!" Carmelita cried, rushing over to her mother for comfort. "We have no money, you cakesniffers! We're poor, penniless, institute…"

"You mean _destitute_?" Violet asked, knowing that there was a big difference between the two words.

"Shut up, cakesniffer!"

"Now, Carmelita!" Esmé scolded gently, patting her daughter on the head. "Darling, you know those words aren't appropriate for a lady." She turned her attention back to the Baudelaires. "It's true, orphans. We've run out of money."

Klaus's eyes widened at the thought of this. As I'm sure you are aware by now, the Baudelaires had always been part of a very rich family. Money had never been an issue for them. "Would you like me to talk to Sir Poe and see if there's anything we can do to clear this up?" he asked.

Olaf's eyes began to shine even more. "Well, it _would_ be nice if we could borrow some money from your inheritance," he told them. "After all, you certainly aren't using it now, are you?"

Violet shuddered at Olaf's suggestion. Something about it seemed a little… strange. "But Count Olaf, sir," she protested, "you know we can't access that account! You heard Sir Poe. We can't touch that money until I'm of age!"

Esmé crossed her arms. "We thought you might say that," she said. "It's too bad, really, because without money, we have no means for keeping you here. Besides, as of yesterday, orphans are _out_."

Violet and Klaus exchanged glances worriedly. What was this supposed to mean?

"What are you suggesting?" Klaus asked after a slight pause. "Do we need to find a new home?"

Esmé shook her head and laughed a dry, almost evil laugh. "Of course not, my dears," she said sweetly, although both Baudelaires knew there was nothing sweet about this woman. "Because your Count Olaf and I have come up with a solution."

"A very good solution!" Carmelita chimed in.

"Of course," Violet responded. "What is your solution?"

"Well, as you know, orphans are _out_… but servants are _in_!" Esmé nearly cackled at this. "We had to fire most of ours because we can't afford to pay them, but thankfully we now have the two of you."

"You really do owe us for your hospitality," Olaf added. "Wouldn't you say?"

Carmelita grinned. "Finally! You cakesniffers can make yourselves _useful_!" She giggled and pranced out of the room.

* * *

**Acknowledgments:** I would like to thank _Swanwhite2, Too Young To Be Serious, Violet S. Rose, PrincessOfNargles, Yaoi Emo Kitsune, _and _EstellaB_ for their reviews on Chapter 4. Hope you like this one! 


	6. The Beastly Burdens

**Author Note:** Hey everyone! Sorry for taking another month to update… I'll admit that one update a month probably isn't great. But it's better than some of my other stories have done in the past! I hope you guys are still interested and enjoy the chapters ahead.

To answer your questions, both Quigley and Sunny will take a little longer to show up in the story… but they _will_ be there, trust me! Hope you enjoy.

FYI – I stole the final line of this chapter from Shakespeare. I'm such a rebel! Don't sue me.

* * *

**The Beastly Burdens**

When you invite a guest into your home, there is a certain way that you should treat that guest, so that he or she feels comfortable. For example, if you are housing a friend who likes an English muffin with jam for breakfast, you should be sure to stock up on the best English muffins and jam you can find. If a visitor needs a place to sleep, you should provide him or her with a comfortable room if you have the means to do so. And if you have run out of money, you certainly shouldn't put your guests to work as servants.

Of course, Count Olaf and his family didn't always choose to follow common courtesy. According to Esmé, disregarding the feelings of others was always _in_.

"How dare you!" Violet exclaimed, crossing her arms angrily.

"We will not be made servants!" Klaus agreed. "You can't do this!"

Olaf's eyes grew shiny once more. He reached out to do something else that a host should never do to his guest – he slapped Klaus across the face.

"Quiet, you brats!" he reprimanded them, which here means "yelled at them even though they didn't deserve it."

Esmé smiled evilly at this. "Viola here will make an excellent lady-in-waiting for you, don't you agree, darling?" she asked Carmelita.

"It's Violet," Violet muttered under her breath.

Carmelita didn't hear her. She shook her head at her mother's suggestion. "Lady-in-waiting sounds too _good_ for her," she disagreed. "Make her just the _maid…_ except that she has to help me out before anyone else!"

"Very well," Esmé said. "Oh, and Clark – you're going to be our new butler."

"Of course, the both of you will have to move down to the servants' quarters," Olaf told them. "Servants don't get to sleep in their own giant rooms, you know!"

"Now off you go!" Esmé exclaimed, shooing the Baudelaires at once. "Pack your things and bring them to your new room. Then you can make us dinner!"

Violet and Klaus groaned as they headed toward the stairs. They couldn't believe their luck.

* * *

"This is completely unfair!" Klaus exclaimed, sitting down on his bed for what would be the last time before he moved downstairs. "How can they do this to us?" 

Violet sighed. "I agree," she replied disappointedly. "But they're our guardians now… without them we have no home."

"Maybe there's a chance we could stay with someone better," Klaus pointed out. "Maybe there are other guardians out there for us."

"But how do we contact them?"

"Poe." Klaus smiled. "If we can convince Sir Poe that we're in such dire circumstances –" a term which here means _a horrible situation in which two orphans are being turned into servants without pay_ "- then maybe he'll take us out to live with someone else. We'll just have to play along with Olaf and Esmé until he comes."

"Brilliant idea," Violet agreed. "We should write to him right away. The sooner he receives our pleas for help, the sooner we'll be out of here."

Klaus nodded, whipping out a sheet of paper and the closest writing utensil he could find. "Help me write it," he urged his sister. They began to write. "_Dear Sir Poe…_"

* * *

If you have grown up in a certain situation your entire life, and suddenly something changes, you often find yourself in a rut. For example, if you have a twin, and the two of you are always together, then you might find it difficult to go about your everyday activities if for some reason, the two of you were separated. If you listen to music every evening before you go to sleep, and for some reason your phonograph decides to malfunction one night, you might have trouble falling asleep. And if you have been given servants (whom you treated well, of course) ever since you can remember, and all of the sudden, you're stuck in a situation in which you have _become_ an ill-treated servant, adjusting can be difficult. 

And so it was for Violet and Klaus Baudelaire. Now living in a stuffy room covered in dust and cobwebs, they couldn't believe how their lives had turned out. It had been a week since they were pronounced servants, and they still were not accustomed to it.

The Baudelaires each awoke before the sun rose each morning, ready to cook breakfast and dust the house (it was always gathering dust) and clean the clothes and wash the dishes. Klaus would answer the door when guests arrived – usually Count Olaf's theatre troupe – and Violet would attend to Carmelita's needs. Often the girl needed help dressing her hair or choosing an appropriate outfit, and helping with that alone was enough to give Violet a headache. When she wasn't arguing with the girl over what to wear, she was picking up the mess that Carmelita often left behind. They often received mere scraps to eat, and only slept for about three hours every night.

One day, in the middle of all this activity, the Baudelaires heard a knock at the door. Violet had been dusting a nearby table when Klaus opened the door.

"Sir Poe!" he exclaimed in greeting, beckoning for the royal bank adviser to step inside. "We've been wondering when you'd show up!"

At the sound of Poe's name, Olaf ran out of the parlor and into the foyer, where his guest was standing. "Now, my dear orphan, you know how we taught you how to answer the door, don't you?"

Klaus groaned. "Olaf residence. May I take your coat?"

Sir Poe shook his head and crossed his arms. "Count Olaf, I've heard some troubling accusations and I hope they aren't true."

"Whatever do you mean, Sir Poe?" Olaf asked innocently, his eyes shining. "I treat the Baudelaires as if they were my own."

Esmé and Carmelita entered the room, each wearing hideous olive dresses, depicting frogs on the skirts. Apparently pinstripes were _out_ and amphibians were _in_.

"Sir Poe!" Esmé exclaimed in surprise. "To what do we owe your esteemed visit?"

Poe frowned. "I received a letter from the Baudelaires which stated that you have employed them as your servants. Apparently you have sent them to live in a shabby room downstairs and you have treated them unfairly since their arrival."

Esmé's eyes grew wide, and it seemed as though they were about to well up with tears. "We're running dangerously low on money," she whimpered, putting an arm around each Baudelaire. "We've all had to take on extra chores ever since we… let our servants go…" She burst into tears.

Olaf reached out and patted his wife on the back. "There, there, Esmé. We can't all be so selfless as you." He turned to Poe and shrugged. "We've given the Baudelaires the best home we can afford to give them. Unfortunately right now, we've all had to work in shifts… in fact, I cleaned the chimneys this morning, and Carmelita has been cooking breakfasts. Esmé tends the fire every day. All we ask is that the Baudelaires take turns helping us in the afternoons."

"That seems fair," Poe said reasonably.

"It's not true, Sir Poe!" Violet protested. "They've done absolutely nothing to help us… we've been doing the chores all day, every day!"

"Violet's right!" Klaus agreed, supporting his sister. "I was the one who cleaned the chimney today… and Violet was the one who cooked breakfast. Sometimes she and I switch off on chores, but we're the only ones."

"Is this true?" Poe raised an eyebrow and turned to Olaf.

Olaf shook his head. "I'm afraid our poor orphans have lived in such a sheltered environment for so long that they've never developed a healthy work ethic," Olaf said sadly. "Such a shame, too, that they've turned to _lying_ in order to get out of helping family."

Poe coughed into his handkerchief. "I can't believe the two of you would do such a thing!" he exclaimed, clearly shocked. "Your parents would be disappointed if they heard this."

"Our parents," Violet retorted fiercely, "would be _furious_ if they knew how we were being treated."

"Very well," Poe replied. "If this is all, I've got bank duties to attend to. Count Olaf, Madame, I'm sorry that such misfortune has befallen you. Money in the kingdom has indeed been tight." He tipped his hat to Esmé and Carmelita. "May I add that the two of you do look rather stylish? I ought to send my wife shopping with you." He headed for the door, which Klaus begrudgingly opened. "Good day to you all."

Before Klaus could shut the door behind him, another figure appeared – this time, the familiar face of a person who looked neither male nor female. "Olaf residence," Klaus said stiffly. "May I take your coat?"

The person glared at Count Olaf. "I've been replaced!" he or she exclaimed in a deep yet indistinguishable voice. "I thought you were out of money!"

"We are," Olaf replied grimly. "We're just using free orphan labor."

The person nodded understandingly, and pulled out a long scroll. "Getting fired was the best thing that ever happened to me," he or she responded. "I'm working for the palace now. I'm actually here to give an announcement. But honestly, the palace is great. You should really –"

"What is the announcement?" Esmé interrupted impatiently.

"Ah, yes, of course." The person opened up the scroll and began to read through its contents. "Let's see… royal subjects… blah, blah, blah… in the name of the Kingdom… blah, blah… I'm sorry, I know it's in here somewhere!"

"What kind of herald _are_ you?" asked Carmelita rudely. "Can't you remember what your announcement is supposed to be?"

The person shook his or her head sadly. "You're the first home I've been to. I didn't write the announcement myself, you know." The person thumbed his or her way through. "Oh wait!" he or she cried. "I've found it!"

"Spit it out!" Olaf yelled, growing tired of this.

"Yes, certainly." The person gulped, tears coming to his or her eyes. It was obvious that the person had not heard the news before. "The queen, my lord, is _dead_."

* * *

**Acknowledgments:** I would like to thank _The Words Tattooed In My Vains, Yaoi Emo Kitsune, Anjel Ricards, EstellaB, Second daughter of Eve, Violet S. Rose, Swanwhite2, PurplePen, PrincessOfNargles, _and_ be-loved-and-loved-in-return_ for their awesome reviews. Keep reading! 


	7. The Eerie Encounter

**Author Note:** Hey guys! So sorry for the wait… I hope you don't hate me too much. Kudos to _siriusly smart_, who was seriously smart enough to catch the fact that the last line of Chapter 6 came from Macbeth. I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter!

* * *

**The Eerie Encounter**

You will find, the more you endure in your life, that different people will react differently in distressing situations. This often depends on the type of situation and the type of person who is faced with it. For example, if you have just auditioned for the lead role in _Zombies in the Snow_ but have been chosen to work backstage instead, you might go to the director and ask for his reconsideration. If someone has written an inaccurate article about you in _The Daily Punctilio,_ you could choose to retaliate with a strongly worded letter expressing your disgust. Or if the love of your life has just informed you that she has fallen in love with a man named Bertrand (assuming Bertrand is not, in fact, _your_ name), you could accept the bad news and go on with your life… or you could choose to hide away from the world and wallow in misery for the rest of your days.

And so, when the person who looked neither male nor female informed the Olaf household that the Queen was dead, the various members of this household reacted differently. Count Olaf merely raised an eyebrow, and stroked his beard thoughtfully. Esmé lunged toward the herald and shook him or her by the shoulders, demanding to know what happened. Carmelita let out a piercing scream, to which the Baudelaires covered their ears. Klaus's jaw dropped, and Violet, her eyes widening, dropped the empty glass vase she had been holding.

The shatter of the glass interrupted Olaf from his train of thought.

"Clean that up, orphan!" he hissed at the elder Baudelaire.

Violet resisted the urge to refuse her guardian, instead reaching for a broom to sweep away the broken pieces.

The herald, meanwhile, was still silently reading his or her scroll, and seemed even more distraught than before. "Oh, dear," he or she said suddenly. "It appears I have made a mistake."

"Oh?" Count Olaf asked, his eyes shining. "Are you saying that the Queen is alive, then?"

The herald shook his or her head sadly. "I'm afraid not," he or she replied. "The Queen is dead, all right. But she's not the only one. The King and two of their children are dead, as well."

"How did this happen?" Klaus demanded, wondering what would happen to the kingdom as they knew it.

"There was a fire," the person explained, having finally read things through, "at the royal summer home. It was last week, but hey, news travels slower than you think. Not only are King Rupert and Queen Anastasia dead, but so are Prince Duncan and Princess Isadora. The only royal still alive is…"

"… Prince Quigley," Violet finished for him. She had remembered meeting the royal family perhaps a year ago, when her parents were still alive, and though they had only met once at a big royal dinner, she could have sworn that she liked him. _It's such a shame that the rest of his family is dead,_ she thought to herself. "How did he survive?"

"Well," the herald said, looking back at the scroll, "it says here that the young prince had gone out to take a walk, draw a map of the area or something. Apparently he's got a little-known interest in-"

"Cartography?" Violet filled in, hoping she remembered as much as she thought she did.

"Why don't you go and write a biography on him, if you know so much?" Count Olaf asked with a sneer.

Violet blushed profusely, which here means that her face grew redder than a tomato. "Klaus and I met him once," she explained. "And the rest of the royal family, too. "

Carmelita giggled almost evilly. "Why would the royal family ever want to meet cakesniffers like _you_?" she asked, snorting.

"Now, sugarplum… snorting while you laugh is _out_," Esmé informed her daughter gently. She turned to the herald. "What'll happen now? Does this make me the kingdom's _fifth _most fashionable woman?"

Generally, when you are trying to follow proper etiquette, you should never refer to anything that has ever come out of Esmé's mouth. For example, if someone has just died, it is rather rude to ask how this person's death will benefit _you_.

"I'm afraid none of that can be determined yet," the herald said with a sigh. "We don't even know who will take the throne next."

"Well, obviously it should be the prince," Klaus responded. "If his family was in power, he should be the next in line, shouldn't he?"

The herald shrugged. "It would seem that way," he or she said, "but there are some complications – mainly, the prince's age. There will be a hearing tonight, I suppose, to discuss this. If Prince Quigley does not take the throne, then there are other eligible nobles who will."

"Is there anything else we need to know?" Count Olaf asked, tapping his foot.

"No," the herald told them, "and if you'll excuse me, I've got the rest of the kingdom to inform. Cheerio."

"Mmm. Cheerio," Esmé said to herself, as the herald disappeared from sight. "That reminds me… Baudelaires, have you started our dinner yet?"

Klaus and Violet shook their heads. "You wanted us to answer doors and dust tables and wait on you hand and foot, we scarcely had time for anything else," Klaus said sardonically, which here means '_in a somewhat funny but also somewhat depressing way.'_

"We have no need for your ungracious attitudes!" Count Olaf shouted. "Now, I command you both to cook us dinner!"

Violet looked at the count helplessly. "There isn't any food in this house!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms. "Do you honestly expect us to just conjure ingredients out of thin air?"

"You cakesniffers!" Carmelita cried out, sticking her tongue out at them. "I'm hungry!"

"Go to the market and _find_ something!" Olaf spat. He reached into his pocket and emptied a few coins (as well as some lint particles) into Klaus's hands. "This money is more than enough!"

Violet and Klaus shrugged to themselves and headed out the door. They had only been to the marketplace once in their entire lives, and that was when their parents wanted them to experience the culture of the kingdom. They didn't know if they would be able to find the place on their own.

"It's such a shame," Violet said conversationally, as they exited Olaf's property. "You know, about the royal family."

"I know," Klaus agreed, keeping his eyes open for a marketplace as they wandered toward the city. "I still remember meeting them a while back. They seemed so down-to-Earth and friendly."

Violet nodded silently. The two siblings crossed the cobblestone street and soon noticed some carts ahead.

"I think that must be it," Klaus said. "The sign says Vestiges of Fine Dining."

The Baudelaires approached the carts, where they noticed a swarm of people in black clothing. Apparently they weren't the only ones who had heard about the royal family; everyone else was wearing black in mourning.

"Vestiges of Fine Dining," Violet repeated, stifling a laugh. "That doesn't sound too appealing." Suddenly, she heard a few chuckles behind her, and she spun around to see two identical strangers, a boy and a girl, standing before her.

"That's exactly what we thought," said the girl, who appeared slightly older than Klaus but slightly younger than Violet. She and the boy each seemed somewhat dirty, as though covered in soot or ashes, but there was something familiar and friendly in their blue eyes.

"This is our first time here," Klaus told them, smiling at the girl, whom he thought was still pretty despite the soot. "Is it too obvious?"

The boy laughed and shrugged. "We're still newcomers, too," he replied.

Violet nodded politely. "Are you new to the city, or just to the marketplace?"

"Just the marketplace," the girl replied. "We've lived here our whole lives. What about the two of you?"

"We've lived here our whole lives, too," Klaus told them. "It's a wonder we haven't met you before."

"Yes, well…" The girl frowned. "Our lives used to be rather sheltered. We weren't always like this."

"Same with us," Violet agreed, though she wondered what could possibly be different with these two. "What happened?"

"There was a fire," the boy said quietly. "Everyone thinks we're dead now."

"That's horrible!" Violet exclaimed, her eyes widening at the thought of such a thing. It was true that her life and Klaus's had been ruined by the fire, but at least people acknowledged that they were _alive_. "What are your names? Perhaps we've read about you in _The Daily Punctilio_."

The boy and the girl exchanged glances.

"You won't believe us," the girl said dejectedly. "Nobody does."

"I promise we will," Klaus replied, adjusting his glasses thoughtfully.

"Well…" The boy stood up straight. "My name is Duncan, and this is my sister Isadora."

* * *

**Acknowledgments:** I would like to thank _PurplePen, PrincessOfNargles, siriusly smart, Some Things Can't Be Feigned, Yaoi Emo Kitsune, Second daughter of Eve, be-loved-and-loved-in-return, yayme2012, _and _Swanwhite2_ for the reviews. Hope to hear from you soon!


	8. The Abominable Announcement

**Author Note:** I'm so sorry for the huge gap in updating! I have been very busy in the months since Chapter 7 and so it is hard for me to keep all of my stories going at the right pace. I hope you can all forgive me! I know I left a cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter. Anyway… enjoy Chapter 8! Well, as much as you _can_ enjoy such a terrible story.

* * *

**The Abominable Announcement**

In polite conversation, there are certain things that one should refrain from joking about. For example, if you have just met a particularly large woman, it would not be wise to tell her she looks like an elephant. If a group of travelers stops to ask you for directions to a nearby attraction, you ought not knowingly lead them to the wrong place. And if someone has just died, you should _never_ say you are that person, back from the dead.

So when the sooty young strangers claimed to be Prince Duncan and Princess Isadora, I am sure you could understand how shocked the Baudelaires were. They could not believe that anyone would stoop this low for attention.

"If this is your idea of a joke," Klaus informed the two strangers, "I can assure you, it's not funny."

"It's not a joke," the boy replied patiently, obviously having expected this kind of reaction. "We really are the prince and princess."

Violet shook her head in disapproval. "Come on, Klaus," she said to her brother, motioning toward the carts of food ahead. "Dinner isn't going to cook itself, you know." She began to head off in the opposite direction.

Klaus nodded, taking one last look at the imposters. He adjusted his glasses momentarily, before turning to follow his sister.

"Wait!" the girl called out to them suddenly.

At some point in your life, you will choose to do something that is completely against your better judgment. Some cases will have more dire consequences than others; for example, if you decide not to blow out the candles you have lit throughout your house, your house could catch fire, and then you are homeless. However, other cases could have more positive effects; for example, if you are a picky eater, you may not want to try a new dish at Café Salmonella, but if for some reason a friend strongly suggests it and you follow his or her advice, you could develop a brand new craving.

Often, these quick decisions are motivated by something -- usually, a particular some_one_. For a young girl named Red Riding Hood, the choice to eat lunch with a wolf in her grandmother's clothing was prompted by her love for her sick grandmother. In my case, choosing to record the lives of these unfortunate orphans was a decision inspired by a beautiful woman who is no longer alive except in my heart. And for Klaus Baudelaire, the decision to turn around one last time to listen to a pair of lying street urchins was motivated by a girl with the prettiest blue eyes he had ever seen.

"What is it?" Klaus asked weakly, not sure if he was ready for any more of this nonsense.

"I know you from somewhere," the girl told him, smiling brightly. "The both of you, actually. What are your names?"

Violet sighed. "My name is Violet Baudelaire," she introduced herself, wondering where she and Klaus could possibly know these two from, "and this is my brother Klaus."

The boy and girl stood quietly for a moment, and then the boy grinned.

"The Baudelaires!" he exclaimed, their name finally registering in his mind. He turned to his sister. "They came to the palace for dinner once, remember, Is?"

Violet and Klaus exchanged confused glances, which here means "looked at each other, wondering how in the world these strangers could possibly know about their royal visit."

"Yes!" the girl laughed, coming to the same conclusion as her brother. She turned to Klaus. "You're the one who loves to read, no? I called you the Walking Library!"

"And you're the inventor," the boy continued, looking at Violet. "I remember you helped us fix..."

"... the drawing room window," Violet finished for him, slowly returning the smile as she realized that the two were, in fact, telling the truth about their identities. They _were_ the prince and princess!

"She's the one that..." Isadora began with a giggle, but she stopped mid-sentence, deciding against whatever it was she was about to say.

"The one that _what_?" Violet asked.

"The one that our brother Quigley couldn't stop talking about for days afterward," Duncan finished for his sister, smiling fondly at the memories.

Wishing she had a fan to cover her face, Violet blushed. She had thought a lot about the young prince, too, after their meeting, but she had doubted he'd seen her as any more than a regular subject of his kingdom.

"So tell us," Klaus interrupted, snapping Violet out of her reverie, or 'deep thoughts about a certain heir to the throne.' "If you really _are_ Prince Duncan and Princess Isadora, then what are you doing here? Everyone thinks you've died in a fire! What happened?"

Isadora sighed, clearly upset thinking about this. "During the fire, our parents told us to hide under a trapdoor in the floor," she explained quietly, a tone of sorrow leaking into her voice. "We were able to survive, but they were not. When we finally escaped, Quigley was gone."

"And why haven't you returned to the palace?" Violet asked.

Duncan shook his head sadly. "The guards won't let us in," he told the Baudelaires. "They say they don't recognize us." He motioned to his charred clothing and sooty face.

"But it's not as though we've had the chance to wash up!" Isadora exclaimed, crossing her arms in annoyance. "We haven't any money with us to purchase new clothes to look like our regular selves. And quite frankly, we doubt the guards would even want to let us in if they _knew_ who we were."

"What do you mean?" Klaus asked.

"Well, for one thing, we don't think the fire was a mere accident," Duncan admitted bitterly. "_The_ _Daily Punctilio _reported that the fire was caused by unchecked candles, but Isadora and I both know that nobody in our family had lit any candles in days. We think that whoever wrote the story knew something that they didn't want the rest of the kingdom to know."

"We also know that, by law, one of us would have had to marry in the next few years in order to claim the throne and maintain the Quagmire line," Isadora continued, "but that there were others who wanted the throne for themselves."

"People who were so selfish they would try to kill the royal family in order to take the throne?" Violet asked, wondering how in the world anyone could be so cruel. "Who would do such a thing?"

"I can't recall their names," Duncan admitted, "but they were a foul lot. One was a man with a beard but no hair, and the other was a woman with hair but no beard."

"Possibly the most vile people we've ever met," Isadora agreed, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "We think they were behind the fire and that they've got their henchmen guarding the castle now."

"That's awful!" Klaus exclaimed, appalled that anyone would go to such lengths just to gain power (although he could name numerous times throughout history in which power-hungry people _had_ done terrible things). "And Prince Quigley doesn't know you're alive?"

The young heirs to the throne shook their heads.

"We know that if they'd just let us in to see him, he would be able to clear everything up for us so we could return to the palace, but the guards have not listened to us," Duncan explained. "In the meantime, we're trying to devise an alternative plan to get ourselves inside. Right now, we're not allowed anywhere _near_ the castle."

"Well, if we can be of _any_ assistance," Violet assured the young nobility, "just let us know."

"Certainly," Klaus agreed. "I can help you with any research you may need, and Violet is extremely capable with inventions. We would be happy to help you."

"That would be lovely," Isadora told the Baudelaires, as a new friendship was forged.

* * *

Early the next morning, as the Baudelaires tended to the fire back at Count Olaf's manor, they heard a knock at the door.

"Coming!" they called out, running to the foyer. Both were curious as to who was there; after all, in most cases, it is rude to arrive at someone's house at such an early hour unless you are expected or you have an extremely important purpose.

Klaus opened the door. "Olaf residence," he said, trying not to yawn. "May I take your coat?"

Standing outside was the royal herald, that same person who looked neither male nor female who had arrived the day before.

"There'll be no need," the person replied, unraveling the scroll that he or she was holding.

Count Olaf, Esmé, and Carmelita appeared at the top of the stairs, each looking entirely unprepared for a morning visitor. Olaf was still wearing his pajamas, which were flannel, and a matching nightcap, while Esmé wore a long silk robe and a facial mask that made her face look almost monstrous. Carmelita wore a pink nightgown with ruffles and bows all over it, and her face was possibly at its sourest.

"Top of the morning to you, Olaf family!" the herald greeted them as he or she noticed them coming downstairs. "Isn't today just lovely?"

"No, it's not!" Carmelita retorted, scowling. "You woke me up from my beauty sleep, you cow!"

The herald's face fell, and he or she seemed almost hurt by this comment. "But I've got a big announcement!" they exclaimed, pouting. "Don't you want to hear it? It has to do with the royal family!"

Count Olaf's eyes gleamed at this. "Of course we want to hear it," he replied, his lips forming a twisted grin.

"Very well," the herald said. "There was a hearing last night to see who would take the throne after the King and Queen's deaths - may they rest in peace - and our kingdom's elders have come to a decision."

"And what might that be?" Olaf asked, his eyes shining even brighter.

"There will be a masquerade ball," the herald told them. "Well... three, actually. For three nights in a row. All eligible young maidens in the kingdom are invited to attend. If Prince Quigley can choose one of these fine young ladies to marry by the third night, then he will keep the throne and become the new King. If not, he will lose the throne to the man with a beard but no hair and the woman with hair but no beard. Unfortunately their names escape me..."

"So our darling Carmelita can attend this ball?" Esmé asked excitedly, gripping her daughter's shoulder. "And possibly marry a _prince_?"

"She certainly can," the herald agreed. "And so can your pretty little servant here, if she'd like."

Violet smiled softly, but her guardians merely scoffed at the suggestion.

"When is the first ball?" Olaf asked. "We must allow ourselves adequate to prepare."

"Tomorrow night," the herald told them. "Seven o'clock at the palace."

Klaus and Violet looked at one another, wondering if they were both thinking the same thing. As Esmé began planning out what the family would wear to the first ball, the Baudelaires hurried off to complete their chores, knowing they would have to stop at the market later in the day.

* * *

Hours after the announcement, Violet and Klaus met with the displaced prince and princess back at the same place they'd been before, right near the Vestiges of Fine Dining carts. Here they had told their new friends a bit about their own backgrounds, including the fire that had torn their family apart, and the horrible guardians they had acquired. Then they mentioned the announcement they had just heard this morning.

"A ball!" Isadora exclaimed, gripping her brother's wrist firmly. "Do you know what that means?"

Duncan shrugged. "Of course I do," he replied. "It means that people from all over the kingdom will dress in their best gowns and suits and come to the castle to dance and dine."

Isadora laughed, smacking her brother lightly on the arm. "It means that any girl in the kingdom will be admitted to the palace," she corrected him. "Well, any girl except me, I suppose, since Quigley's my brother and these new castle guards also recognize me as some sort of threat to the kingdom at this point."

"We do know another girl who could get in and talk to him, though," Duncan realized, grinning at Violet knowingly. "You are, after all, an eligible young maiden... are you not?"

Violet laughed. "I am."

Klaus nodded. "Violet has already met Quigley once before, so if she does attend the ball, I'm sure she would have the chance to pull him aside and talk to him for you, wouldn't she?"

"Oh, yes!" Isadora giggled. "Quigley was quite taken with her the first time they met. I doubt if he'd object to any alone time with her now."

Violet's cheeks flushed red at this. "I doubt if he'd even remember me, Is," she reasoned with the princess. "If I do this, it will be to help out my kingdom, not for my own benefits."

And with that, the four friends began plotting and planning.

* * *

**Acknowledgments:** I would like to thank _PrincessOfNargles, siriusly smart, be-loved-and-loved-in-return, Second daughter of Eve, Too Young To Be Serious, Loving ain't so sweet., Purple Pen, Swanwhite2, ikffrox, madcap356, Dewkit, _and_ imagine everything_ for the reviews! Rock on and enjoy Chapter 8!


	9. The Precarious Plans

**Author Note:** After three years of no new chapters, I realize that Chapter 9 is long overdue! Since my last update, I have graduated high school and begun my third year of university, so as you can tell, it has been a long time.

I hope at least some of my readers will stick with me through my long hiatus. For those who have been asking about Sunny, fear not – she will appear eventually in the story! I haven't forgotten her. To old and new readers alike, happy reading!

* * *

**The Precarious Plans**

When trying to achieve a big goal, one might find it difficult to work alone. Having a group of friends or colleagues with similar interests often makes the job much easier. For example, it would be nearly impossible for you to build a pyramid, throw a fancy dinner party, or put on a corset without at least _some_ assistance – especially if you are a man and you have little knowledge in the matters of corsets.

And so it was with the four young orphans, as they devised a plan to sneak Violet into Prince Quigley's masquerade ball. Although the royal herald had told them that all eligible maidens were invited to attend, Klaus and Violet doubted that Count Olaf and Esmé would allow either of them to leave the manor the next evening.

"You'll have to leave for the ball at least a half hour after Carmelita does," Klaus advised his sister. "That way, they won't sense you on their trail."

"And you'll need the time to get ready!" Isadora exclaimed, patting her newfound friend on the shoulder. "I should be able to help, so long as we can find you something to wear."

Violet bit her lip, as young girls are prone to do when they are nervous about a situation. "None of my clothes survived the fire," she admitted with a sigh. "The only way I could find anything appropriate to wear is if I take something from Carmelita's wardrobe without her knowing about it."

My dear readers, I would normally never encourage you to steal from others. In fact, throughout my lifetime, I have had a number of valuables stolen from me, including a favorite pocket watch, a top hat I wore to dinner parties, and a beautiful woman whose face appears in my dreams every night. Having something stolen from you can be a painful experience, one that you should never try to inflict on someone else.

Of course, in this case, Carmelita was the exception to the rule.

"That's a brilliant idea," Klaus told Violet, his eyes widening. "If you choose something of hers that is _out_, she probably won't even notice it's gone."

Duncan smiled. "Isadora can help you alter the dress so that it fits you perfectly," he said. "She used to spend a lot of time with our royal seamstress."

"It's true," Isadora agreed with a nod. "In fact, Duncan and I can sneak back to the manor with you, and find a place to hide for the next few days while we help you prepare."

"Now would be the perfect time," Klaus said. "Our guardians are out looking for dresses for Carmelita. They won't be back until supper, I'd imagine."

With that, the four orphans headed to Count Olaf's home, where they became more and more enveloped in their plans, a phrase that here means "excited to win the kingdom back through this very elaborate plot." While Isadora informed the group of all she envisioned for Violet's hairstyle for the first evening, Duncan explained some of the practical logistics, such as when to curtsy, where to enter the castle, and which noblemen to avoid because of bad breath.

"This reminds me," Duncan began as they stepped out to the backyard, "how do you plan to be transported to the masquerade ball?"

With a grin, Violet began to tie her hair up in her trusty ribbon, as she often did when thinking of an invention. "I have an idea," she said, glancing around at the abandoned tools and materials that the previous servants had left behind. Identifying a few pairs of wheels from two very large wheelbarrows, she turned back to her friends. "I can build a carriage out of some of the equipment out here," she explained. "I'll have to do most of the work when the rest of the house is asleep, but I should be able to build something before tomorrow night."

"And the dress, shall we choose something from Carmelita's wardrobe now?" Isadora asked. "That way, of course, we will have more time to alter it."

The Baudelaires agreed, leading the Quagmires inside and upstairs to Carmelita's room. "These are her clothes," Violet said, motioning to a slew of dresses, all in different colors and patterns. Sorting through the mounds of gowns that had gone in and out of fashion, she frowned – although many of the styles had been _in_ at one point, she had to wonder who had actually approved of them.

"Choosing a dress from here might be more difficult than I thought," Isadora mused, holding up a shockingly orange gown with green stripes in the skirt. She continued to rummage through, finally settling for a frilly pink gown.

Klaus wrinkled his nose, as one usually does when one detects a particularly bad smell. "I don't think that's something Violet would wear," he said.

"I agree," Isadora replied, "but it's probably the best choice we've got, isn't it? I can certainly make some… adjustments."

Suddenly, before anyone else could speak, the front door opened, and the group could hear Carmelita's voice downstairs.

"I'm _so_ bored with this amphibian trend!" the girl whined, throwing a bag down on the ground. "Thank _goodness_ polka dots are in again – this dress will look perfect on me tonight."

The four orphans exchanged glances. "Quick," Violet warned the Quagmires. "Hide!" Clutching the chosen dress, Isadora leapt toward the window and hid behind the curtains, while Duncan dove under the bed. Violet and Klaus hurried out of the room and to the staircase, but it was too late – Carmelita was already there.

"Out of my way, orphans!" Carmelita shrieked, holding her brown and white polka dot dress up in front of them. "I need to try on this dress again." Pushing past them, she bounded up the stairs to her room.

"That was rude," Klaus remarked to Violet.

"You cakesniffers!"

Klaus and Violet ran back up to Carmelita's room.

"What's wrong?" Violet asked, afraid that Carmelita would find them out. "Is everything alright?"

Carmelita crossed her arms. "You've been in my room, haven't you?"

"N-No!" Klaus stammered, a word which here means _struggled to say because it was an outright lie_. "What makes you think that?"

Carmelita sat down on her bed and scowled. "It feels different in here…"

Violet laughed nervously. "Oh, um… I actually was in here earlier," she backtracked. "I did a little cleaning for you. Wanted to surprise you!"

"I knew it!" Carmelita jumped up from the bed and walked toward the window. "Why are my curtains shut? You know how the sunlight makes me happy."

Violet ran after her, standing between Carmelita and the window. She could practically hear Isadora's heart pounding. "I really think you need to keep them shut!" she insisted. "Too much sunlight will be bad for you before the ball. You want to try and look as pale as possible if you want to really stand out tomorrow night."

Carmelita shrugged. "I suppose you're right, Victoria," she agreed. "I'm already much prettier than you and every other girl in the kingdom, but I still can't take any chances. We must go downstairs immediately – Mother will want to give you all of your orders for tomorrow night. You will have to make me even more beautiful for the ball!"

"I don't know how Violet will be able to manage that," Klaus replied sweetly. "Why don't you two go ahead, and I'll finish Violet's cleaning up here?"

As the two young girls headed back downstairs to meet with Esmé, Klaus opened the curtains and signaled for the Quagmires to escape their hiding places.

"That was close!" Duncan exclaimed, heaving a sigh of relief.

"I thought she was about to find me," Isadora admitted. "I cannot believe she has the nerve to treat you that way. When Duncan and I are restored our rights to the throne –"

"No time to discuss that now!" Klaus urged her. "Let's hurry to the back of the second floor and take the service elevator down to the servants' quarters. Olaf and Esmé will never find you there."

* * *

That evening, Violet and Klaus prepared a meal of poultry and vegetables with a Hollandaise sauce, which is one of the five French mother sauces created by Auguste Escoffier. The sauce was a particularly difficult one to make, but of course their guardians did not thank them for their troubles in the kitchen. When Violet and Klaus had the chance, they ate a few bites of what was left over, and then snuck the rest downstairs to Isadora and Duncan, who were currently in hiding.

Once Olaf, Esmé and Carmelita had gone to sleep, Violet began construction on her carriage outside. Notebook in hand, Duncan joined her, taking notes by moonlight. Meanwhile, Isadora and Klaus snipped away at frills on the stolen dress and began its alterations. After making some significant progress late in the night, the four young orphans went to sleep, knowing full well that the next day would be a busy one.

* * *

"Veruca!" Carmelita screamed out, her feet pounding down the stairs. "Veruca!"

Violet awoke with a start. "Yes, Carmelita?" she called back tentatively, not bothering to correct Carmelita or inform her of how impolite it is to wake someone up by screaming orders at them.

"We must spend the entire day getting ready! Have Carl make me breakfast at once."

Violet and Klaus emerged from their quarters, shutting the door quickly behind them to obscure the Quagmires from sight. "Right away, Carmelita," Klaus answered, as they joined her in the parlor.

"Carmelita, darling, perhaps you should watch your figure before the ball," Esmé advised, entering the room from the kitchen. "Clarence, fetch my princess-to-be a goblet of lemon juice. And _you,_ –" she pointed at Violet "-follow us to Carmelita's room. Elaborate hairstyles are very _in_ right now, so you'll need to start early."

The three women retreated to Carmelita's room, where Violet began by combing through the many knots in her stepsister's hair. "How would you like your hair?" Violet asked, not knowing much herself about styling hair. "Would you prefer loose curls, or would you like me to pull your hair up?"

Carmelita yawned as though bored already. "I don't know, orphan," she said. "Try every style you can think of, and I'll choose the one I like the best."

"So long as you don't style her hair in that awful ribbon that you're wearing, of course!" Esmé cackled. "No one could catch a prince wearing something like that."

"Catch a prince?" Violet repeated. "Surely tonight should be about more than just that… it should be about adventure and finding true love. Quigley is more than just a Prince, I'm sure."

"Learn your place, orphan!" Esmé glared at the young inventor, whose cheeks had grown quite red upon her outburst. "All you should concern yourself with is making sure Carmelita looks the part of a princess."

Violet sighed. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

"It seems you've worked a miracle on that dress," Klaus remarked, watching as Isadora worked diligently on the hem. "But how will you create Violet's mask? It is a masquerade tonight, you know."

Isadora laughed. "Do you realize how much excess material I have cut from this dress?" she asked. "I can use it to create a matching mask."

Klaus smiled at her. "If I didn't know for a fact that you are a princess, I would be convinced that you have been doing this professionally your whole life."

Blushing, Isadora looked back down at the dress. In turn, Duncan looked up from his notebook, where he had been recording all of the days' events. "Don't forget that I am still in the room," he reminded them.

Isadora cleared her throat. "We realize that Violet may not be able to safely identify herself to Quigley tonight," she said, changing the subject, "but hopefully she will at least have the chance to dance with him and make conversation. While everyone is out at the ball, we will select her dresses for the second and third night."

"Every night when she returns to the manor, we will have to discuss the events of the evening," Duncan added. "As in, who she saw, what her interactions with Quigley consisted of, et cetera."

"I agree," Klaus said. "We will have to work out all of the details tonight. The ball ends at one in the morning, so I think it would be best to ask Violet to return to the manor by midnight to avoid being caught."

The three orphans continued to plot, growing more and more hopeful that their plans could save them all.

* * *

**Acknowledgments: **I would like to thank _imagine everything, Macabre-Melody, Stardust- Formerly Dewkit, , Second daughter of Eve, ikffrox, Swanwhite2, Metaphorical, Maximum Baudelaire, RedCloakedMaiden, Silver Souhait, HowObjectionable, LOLemonade, kind of hungry, the Sudoku kid, Lizzmeister yo, copiousyouth, kumori13, tomboy, Sissy aka Irisgray, song-baka, Graziella, iMaximumPuckett23, Kahlan Aisling, , Moo Moo Marshmallow, dawn, Camberleigh Fauconbridge, XD You're On Camera, _and _Lady Badger_ for their reviews on Chapter 8. I hope you keep reading!


	10. The Malevolent Masquerade

**Author Note: **Well… at least I only waited _two_ years between chapters this time! Thank you to all of my readers for your continued support. I love writing this piece, and I hope I can give you the story that you deserve! As always, thank you for your reviews, and enjoy this chapter.

* * *

**The Malevolent Masquerade**

Prior to any formal event, it is important to spend a little extra time to look one's best. Of course, as you grow older and are invited to more and more banquets and birthday parties, you will learn that some guests will take more time to get ready than others. In fact, a former colleague of mine spent two hours selecting the best pendant to wear to a neighbor's holiday dinner, and I once spent several months preparing myself for the wedding of the woman I loved.

Many will take the time to choose the right hairstyle, clothing and shoes, but very few took as much time as Carmelita did on the night of the first royal ball.

"Cakesniffer, straighten out these curls!" Carmelita shrieked, pulling at her tightly curled locks. Violet had just rearranged Carmelita's hair for what felt like the hundredth time that day, and couldn't bear to do it again.

"Carmelita, darling, there isn't time," Esmé said softly, squeezing her daughter's cheeks for color. "Our carriage is outside waiting, and so is your prince!"

"I suppose this will do," Carmelita muttered, narrowing her eyes at Violet. She stood up from her chair and twirled around in her red polka dot dress. "I already know I'll be the prettiest girl there." She slapped on her matching mask.

"Yes, you will," Olaf agreed as he appeared in the doorway. He extended out both hands – one to Carmelita and one to Esmé – to lead them out of the room. Violet followed closely behind. "Orphan, I trust you and your brother will clean up this mess while we're gone," he added.

"Of course she will!" Esmé cackled as they made their way downstairs. "It's not as though she has a royal ball to attend!"

Violet gritted her teeth. "Have a lovely evening," she said without really meaning it. She ran ahead of her stepfamily and opened the front door for them. "Safe travels!"

"Thanks for nothing, cakesniffer!" Carmelita yelled back, and with that, Violet shut the door.

Isadora, Duncan and Klaus emerged from the servants' quarters, where they had been able to hide from Carmelita's beauty routines.

"That girl is insufferable!" exclaimed Isadora, using a word which here means _unbelievably rude and obnoxious at all times_. "We could hear her screaming at you all the way from back here!"

Violet shook her head. "I feel like I could use a nap now, after all of that," she admitted.

"Oh no, you don't!" Duncan cut in, taking Violet gently by the shoulders and steering her toward the servants' quarters. "We still have to get _you_ ready for the ball."

When they entered the room, Isadora pulled out the pink gown she had altered for Violet. What was once frilly and resembling a pastry was now sleek and elegant, and when Violet put the dress on and looked in the mirror, she couldn't believe what she saw.

"Beautiful, Vi," Klaus told her, as Isadora arranged her hair in a simple updo.

"Remember, tonight you aren't Violet," Duncan said, pulling out his notebook and flipping through his notes. "Tonight, you are Duchess Veronique Fortunella of Dagmar."

Violet laughed. "Remind me again why I can't use my own identity? Or, at the very least, why I have to have such an elaborate name?"

"We don't want Olaf and Esmé to catch wind of this!" Klaus replied. "Besides, Veronique Fortunella of Dagmar is a long enough name that most people won't think to question it."

"Fair enough," Violet said, running a hand through her hair. "I just hope _I_ can remember it!"

"Another thing." Isadora fastened the matching pink mask over the upper half of Violet's face. "Quigley will be heavily guarded at this type of event, so you can't mention Duncan and me tonight or you will be escorted out. You need to gain Quigley's trust first, so that eventually you can get him alone and away from the guards. That won't happen tonight."

Violet bit her lip, a habit that one might display when nervous. "I'm not so sure about this," she confessed, turning away from the mirror. "How do you know that this will work?"

"We don't," Duncan said softly, "but it's our only chance."

Klaus pat his sister on the shoulder. "We should leave soon," he told her, leading her out of the room. "Duncan and Isadora will begin working on tomorrow's gown while you're gone, and I'll do some research as well. Shall we?"

Violet smiled. "Thank you all for your help tonight," she said sincerely. "I will do my best."

The royal siblings wished her luck as Klaus escorted her out the door.

* * *

A little while later, Klaus and Violet arrived outside the palace. Klaus, who drove the carriage Violet had built, helped her down and squeezed her hand in support. "You will be great," he told her. "I know you will."

Violet took a deep breath. "I just hope everything turns out all right in the end," she said, not realizing that in life, nothing ever truly does.

"Don't forget, I'll be here at midnight to pick you up," her brother reminded her. "That should give us plenty of time to get back before Olaf and Esmé do."

Klaus bid Violet adieu, and the lovely inventor approached the palace.

"Name?" the guard asked, holding the door for her.

_Oh no,_ Violet thought, realizing that she had already forgotten her new pseudonym, which here means _fake name_. "Er…" she hesitated for a moment. "Duchess… Ella of Dagmar…" she finally pieced together. She knew that wasn't correct, but she couldn't do much to change it now.

And as she entered the ballroom, the guard called out, "Presenting Duchess Ella of Dagmar!"

In your life, you will experience a few key moments in which you suddenly feel like the most admired person in the room. For Violet, who descended the royal staircase with all eyes on her, this was one of those moments. Guests turned and chattered with one another in awe, wondering who this beautiful duchess truly was, and why they had never seen her before.

Somewhere across the room, Carmelita was not amused. "She's not that special!" she hissed, rolling her eyes at Esmé and Count Olaf. "Why aren't they looking at me anymore?"

Esmé and Olaf exchanged glances. "Who _is_ that girl?" Olaf wondered aloud, trying to figure out where he had seen her before. Had she been a member of his acting troupe?

"Does it matter, though?" Esmé placed a hand on her hip. "The color _pink_ is no longer 'in' anyway."

Violet offered a timid smile to the other guests as she passed through. A bald man with a long nose approached her and held out his hand. "Honor me with a dance?"

Unsure of what to do, Violet shrugged. The bald man took her hands in his and spun her around quite suddenly. "What a stunning creature you are," he said, his beady eyes glowing. Violet backed away.

"Thank you, my lord," she responded with a curtsy, unsure of whom she had shared a dance with. "Please excuse me."

Violet hurried through the ballroom, dodging several waltzing couples as she made her way outside to the balcony. _What am I doing here?_ she asked herself, feeling uncomfortable with her fake title and stolen gown.

"I didn't realize this was a sad occasion," said a voice behind her.

Violet turned around to see Prince Quigley, standing before her in all of his sapphire glory. He was more handsome than she remembered him, even in a mask, and Violet couldn't help but smile.

"Your Highness," she replied shyly, curtsying.

Quigley bowed. "Of course, if you think about it, it _is_ a sad occasion," he continued. "My entire family passed away, and because of that, I've been ordered to fall in love and choose a wife over the next three days. It's strange how our kingdom operates, isn't it?"

Violet sighed, wishing she could tell him the truth. But when she noticed two palace guards in the doorway, she knew it wasn't the right time. "I am sorry for your loss," she told him, stepping in a bit closer. "I recently lost my own parents, and it was the worst feeling I could ever imagine."

Quigley's features softened. "Then I am sorry for your loss, too," he said. "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," Violet said, trying again to remember what name she was using at the ball. "I'm… Ella. Just call me Ella."

"Ella," Quigley repeated. He furrowed his brow. "Ella, have we met before?"

Violet bit her lip, growing nervous once again. "I don't believe we have," she lied.

"Strange," Quigley said. "There's just something about you…" He paused, disappointed that he couldn't seem to place her. Then he reached out his hand. "Care to dance?"

Violet nodded, slipping her hand into his. She swallowed.

"I've heard you're a cartographer," she blurted out, unsure of the best topic of conversation. "Have you been interested in maps for long?"

Quigley smiled. "It's nice to meet a girl at one of these events who wants to talk about something real for a change," he laughed. "To answer your question, I have been drawing maps ever since I could hold a quill. When I was younger, I used to create my own lands to escape to." He spun her around. "What about you? Are you a fellow cartographer?"

Violet giggled and shook her head. "An inventor," she corrected him. "I like to build and fix things in my spare time, and try to figure out new uses for old tools."

"I'm impressed!" Quigley exclaimed. "You know, I once knew a girl who was an inventor. She fixed the drawing room window in the palace a long time ago." He hesitated for a moment, then looked at her again. "You actually remind me quite a bit of her. Do you have a cousin that I might have met?"

_He remembers me?_ Violet's heart began to pound. She hoped he wouldn't discover her identity on that first night. "No," she told him, "I have no cousins."

Quigley shrugged. "Funny coincidence, then," he said, and he held her closer. "So, Ella, tell me more about yourself."

And for quite a while, they talked about inventions and Briny Beach and maps and loss. They talked until a blonde young woman peeked outside and requested a dance with the young prince.

"Meet me out here tomorrow?" Quigley whispered as he broke away from Violet and began to walk inside.

Violet smiled and nodded. "Of course," she agreed, glancing at the grandfather clock. It was almost midnight, anyway – time for her to meet Klaus.

And for the first time since that fateful day at Briny Beach, Violet felt like things had begun to turn up.

* * *

**Acknowledgments:** Special thanks to the following readers for your kind reviews… _Cinereal, Invisi The Royal Platypus, Lizzmeister yo, Second daughter of Eve, Lady Badger, , HowObjectionable, Bookwormluver998, Vacurai78, XxRin-sanxX, Bri, shaylove, Luna Baudelaire, book lover, sweethearttart,_ and_ blueice2449. _Hope you enjoy Chapter 10!


End file.
